


Fizzy Water

by orphan_account



Series: The Adventurous Sex Life of Clint Barton [9]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Date Rape, Drug Use, M/M, POV Clint Barton, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Safewords, consensual date rape, consensual drug use, weakened!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has a rape fantasy. Phil figures out how to give him what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fizzy Water

**Author's Note:**

> CHECK THE TAGS. This fic has Phil 'date raping' Clint, but it's an incredibly involved role play which involves Phil drugging Clint (with Clint's prior knowledge and consent) and then taking him back to a hotel and 'raping' him. It is ALL with Clint's knowledge and prior consent. They are attempting to fulfil a fantasy of Clint's. 
> 
> Beta read by Dunicha.

Clint waits a while before he brings up this particular fantasy with Phil, because he's not sure how to explain that, yeah, something about being taken against his will sort of does it for him, and doesn't want to freak Phil  out. But after a little bit of a Talk, Phil comes round to the idea, and they give it a college try before realising it's not going to work. Clint's too strong for any real struggle, and it turns out that’s what he gets off on the most - the idea of being physically overpowered. When Clint accidentally throws Phil right off the bed, spraining his ankle and breaking a lamp, they decide to work something else out.

 

It's actually Phil that suggests drugs, which is weird since he never likes drugs, neither recreational or prescribed. Clint's polishing his boots on the kitchen table, newspaper spread beneath the brushes and tins of black when he suggests it. He sits at the other side of the table with his coffee and shrugs. "It's just an idea." 

Clint tastes the idea in his mind before pursing his lips and nodding. "That could work."

 

They figure it all out - a scenario where it's the first time they've met in the flesh, with their own backstories to be figured out alone and a couple of safewords that make sense for the scenario. All the details of what Clint wants have been gone over before but Phil actually takes notes this time, and Clint finds out that the little blue notebook he puts them in is half full of this stuff - all of the kinks and preferences he's told Phil catalogued lovingly. It makes Clint wonder how he ever got so lucky.

 

Clint's been drugged with similar stuff before as part of his training, learning how to quell any panic at the paralysis and avoid telling captors whatever intel they're trying to get out of him. Phil suggests giving it a practice run at home but Clint's never been one to do things half way. It’s a mixture of things SHIELD have used in the past, mostly a paralytic that makes the victim lethargic and pliant, physically incapable of resistance. 

 

When the time comes, Phil disappears early with a couple of bags leaving Clint to get ready, dressing in one of the suits that usually has Phil salivating whenever he can get him to put it on. It's a three-piece; Phil loves undoing all the buttons and peeling off each layer in turn like he's opening a present.

 

He takes a cab, which is novel in itself, and arrives a few minutes early. Phil's already waiting at the bar. He smiles when he sees Clint, and he's such a good actor that it comes off warm but unfamiliar, as though they really have never met in person. 

"You must be Phil," Clint says as he takes a seat next to him. He half expected Phil to have a drink waiting for him, already laced with the drugs, but he lets him order his own, and as much as Clint tries not to be, he's hyper aware of his glass and of Phil's proximity to it all throughout the meal. 

 

They chat about Phil's 'job in pharmaceuticals' and Clint's work as 'a cop', and Phil makes a joke about the pork Clint orders and then tells him all about how he used to be one of those protestor hippy types in the 80s before straightening out and going corporate. They talk about drugs and what they've done and do and about made up first date stuff, both being their most charming selves. 

 

By the time they're eating dessert Clint's definitely feeling a little weird despite never seeing Phil go near his drink. Phil asks if he's feeling ok, and Clint shrugs it off, though that in itself feels a little off, like his movements are delayed a moment longer than they ought to be. Phil pays the bill before leading Clint out to get some air and hail a taxi, offering the driver the explanation that his date's had a little too much to drink when he has to help him stay upright once he's seated. 

 

Clint's alert enough, though it feels like his neurons are firing slower than they're meant to, as though he's consciously making the decision to turn his head before his muscles catch up and have him moving. He can tell Phil's a little concerned beneath the mask of aloof competence, scolding Clint for drinking so much and telling him he'll feel better when they get back to his hotel. 

 

"Hotel?" Clint says a couple of seconds after he decides to say it, and the delay makes him feel a little panicked but it's alright because Phil's there. And that's not even the idea, Phil's meant to be a stranger, a stranger who's slipped Clint something and is taking him somewhere where he's gonna do things to him. 

 

Phil helps Clint out of the car before bodily holding him up in the elevator. He fades in and out before finding himself being led into a room and cool soft sheets pressing against his face as he's pushed onto a bed. 

 

"Do you want a drink?" Phil asks, turning him over and tapping him on the cheek. It's one of the cues they worked out ahead of time. "Yeah," he says, "water. Uh... fizzy water." 

The look of relief is palpable on Phil's face and Clint would roll his eyes if he thought they'd co-operate. If he'd said no Phil would have stopped. If he'd asked for anything else Phil'd have let him have a moment, but as it is, he sets a glass and an unopened bottle of water from the minibar on the bedside table before crowding over him to kiss him hard on the mouth. 

 

It gets pretty fast after that, or maybe it's just Clint's perception that's messed up, with Phil kissing a sloppily unresponsive Clint and getting him mostly naked. He's talking the whole time too, and it's that more than the physical manipulation that gets Clint hard because Phil's so damn good at it. "Could tell how much you wanted my cock when you walked in. Fucking desperate for it." Clint's just flopping around wherever Phil wants him, and he'd planned to try to resist a little more but he just _can't_. "Stop," he tries when his arms slide uselessly off of Phil and get pressed above his head, but Phil _does_ stop and ask if he wants some water again. "I'm fine," he answers, and when Phil falters Clint huffs and slurs, "Green, Phil." 

 

It'd throw them both out of the scene if Clint wasn't so gone, but after he blinks for a second Phil's got his pants off, turned him over and got a couple of fingers inside him. "I'm gonna fuck your ass," he promises with a hot breath in Clint's ear. "And you couldn't stop me even if you wanted to." Another moment flashes past and Phil's sliding his cock into him, asking if it feels good and then telling him it does when he doesn't answer.

 

"No," Clint says, making a very token attempt to stop him again, but Phil easily bats his arms away when he reaches back for him.

"I bought you dinner," he says. "You owe me." 

Clint whimpers and squirms as best he can, and after another offer of a drink Phil finally gets a little rougher, pressing a hand over Clint's mouth when he tells him to stop again. 

 

"Nice and tight," Phil says, and he was so gentle and Clint's so relaxed around him that even though he's going pretty hard it doesn't hurt at all. He does feel small though, and dominated; overpowered and weak. Phil presses his weight on top of him and pounds in and out, grabbing a fistful of Clint's hair and pulling a little for good measure. He gets a hand under Clint to feel his cock, squeezing it. "See, you're fucking hard for this. You like being treated like a little slut. A whore. A piece of meat."

 

Clint shakes his head as best he can and whines, but Phil pulls his arms behind him and holds them there when he tries to push himself up from the bed. "You're not going anywhere," he promises. "Not til my cum's leaking out of you."

 

Clint presses his face into the sheets, wet from spit and tears beneath him, letting Phil hold him there and use him. He can feel Phil smacking his ass and thrusting in and out of his hole but the thing he finds himself focussing on the most is how taken he feels, like he's been reduced into an animal that's simply been bested by a stronger, smarter one. He moans and says no a few more times against the sheets and Phil keeps tearing into him, til all Clint knows is that he's being fucked, used as something for Phil to get off on and nothing more.

 

Clint passes out and wakes up to Phil shuddering on top of him, and Phil presses his head down as he comes with a few strained sounds, thrusting in hard telling him how much he knows Clint loves to be bred. 

 

Clint's back is cold when Phil gets off, and he whimpers more because he doesn't want Phil to go away than because of how used he feels. But Phil doesn't go far, he just slides down the bed to sit and pry Clint's cheeks open again and play with his ass some more. He's wet and sloppy and stretched out, and Phil tells him as much, elaborating on all the ways Clint's a filthy slutty used up whore. He stretches him more, pressing in three fingers from each hand to pull him even wider. "Could fit my whole fucking fist inside your stretched out cunt," Phil remarks, and even though Clint's mewling and complaining and lost to it, he's glad Phil turned him onto his belly so he could say these things with impunity, where Clint can't watch him and make him shy. 

 

Clint can feel the drugs start to wear off a little, cause his leg takes far less time to react when he tells it to try to kick Phil away. Phil easily pushes his leg back where he wants it, slapping his ass for being so rude. "Just take it," he says, and slaps him again when he squirms some more. 

 

Fingers probe into Clint again, and it feels like Phil really is going to fist him, and it makes Clint panic a little since he didn't agree to that, but he sort of wants it anyway precisely because it _wasn't_ asked for. But then the pressure's gone and Phil's wiping the cum that he scooped from inside him onto Clint's back. He whines again and tries to crawl away but it's not happening, with Phil grabbing his ankles and pulling him back down easily. 

 

The fingers return and more slick is wiped onto Clint's skin til his back feels cold where the air hits the wetness. 

 

"Phil," Clint whines, but that does nothing to stop Phil from having his fun. He pushes him over so the sheet sticks to Clint's back and then starts sucking his cock, and Clint half passes out again when he blinks, waking up a second later when he's coming helplessly into Phil's hand. He moves then to loom over Clint and feed him his cum, telling him to lick him clean and say thank you. Clint makes a token show of protest but gives in easily, swallowing when Phil rubs his throat like a sick dog that's been given a pill. 

 

Clint must pass out again because a moment later Phil's on top of him again, fucking into him slowly, speeding up when he sees Clint's awake. There's more strength in him now and they get into more of a struggle, but he's still easily bested by Phil and given a hard slap to the face for his trouble. "Behave," he says, and when Clint tries to reply Phil kisses him again, pressing in hard and coming as he bites at Clint's lips.

 

When he pulls out, Phil lays beside him, carefully not touching anywhere except to peel the sheet off of Clint's back when he rolls to one side. "Ok?" Phil asks, and Clint's got enough control over himself now to roll back and reach for him, nodding against Phil's chest when he holds his arms open for him.

 

He's quiet, and Clint's endlessly thankful that right now Phil's giving him that, letting him fall apart a little without trying to fix it right away. When he moves - easier now - Phil's chest is wet where Clint's face was pressed, and he doesn't remember crying but feels the same ache in the back of his throat that tells him he has been. Phil looks a little alarmed but he waits for Clint to speak, which takes a minute or two. 

 

“That was fuckin’ weird, but awesome,” he says, still feeling a little breathless and groggy. 

“Was it what you wanted?”

Clint clings on to what he can of Phil to pull him into a hard, deep kiss. “You are always what I want. And yes. Thank you.”

“You want some room service?”

Clint laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m hungry.”

 


End file.
